Best I Ever Had
by Arathe
Summary: HIATUS After a decade apart, war with Creta brings Roy and Edward together again, and they discover that nothing between them has been resolved. Sequel to Can't Be. Roy/Ed
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Ah, yet another ficwhen I should be working on Dichotomy. This one insisted on being written, though, so here it is. Sequel to Can't Be, though you don't have to read that to be able to follow this. Named for the song that inspired it, because I fail at titles. ;)**  
**

**::Best I Ever Had::**

_But it's not so bad_  
_You're only the best I ever had_  
_You don't want me back_  
_You're just the best I ever had_

_It may take some time_  
_to patch me up inside_  
_But I can't take it_  
_so I run away and hide_  
_And I may find in time_  
_that you were always right._

_You're always right._

_-- _Best I Ever Had, Vertical Horizon

Roy stared down at the report in his hands and wondered when the war stopped being a war and started being a joke. Amestris and Creta were standing on opposite sides of an invisible line, each poking, prodding, testing the other, but beyond minor skirmishes, neither side was actually _doing _anything. The standoff showed no sign of ending any time soon, and it was driving him mad.

He could understand why Creta attacked, even if he didn't agree with the reason. After Bradley's death, Amestris sank into a pit of political disarray. No two people could agree on how the country should be run. In fact, if it weren't the fact that most military and government personnel had gone on doing what they had always done, the country might have fallen apart completely. Creta had seen this weakness, and chosen to exploit it.

An offensive defense, they called it.

The general in him understood the rationale. Amestris didn't exactly have a shining record when it came to dealing with its neighbors, and Creta had decided it was best to strike while they were weak, instead of risking their country becoming another Ishbal. It didn't matter that with Bradley gone Amestris was no longer the military state it once was, that chances of them attacking another country for the sake of conquest were slim. All Creta cared about was that Amestris had a history of violence.

The man in him was angry that they refused listen to reason, that Creta wouldn't back down and that Amestris couldn't. He was angry that they couldn't get the personnel they needed to end the conflict because his people didn't trust them anymore. He was angry that they were throwing money and supplies and _human lives _at each other and getting absolutely nowhere.

Roy was getting too old for this shit.

A single, sharp knock at the door made Roy look up. The door swung open and Miles poked a bald head in. "There you are!" he said, slipping inside and closing the door behind him. He waved a handful of forms at Roy. "You won't believe this."

"Yes, who is it? Oh, Captain, please come in." Roy muttered.

Miles ignored him, slapping the forms down in front of Roy with a wide grin. "Take a look! Let me tell you, it's about damn time!"

Roy didn't look at the forms, instead raising an eyebrow at the captain in silent inquiry. If Miles was so happy, it was either something very good, or very bad. The pessimist in him was betting on the latter. "The Cretans surrendered?" he hazarded with an ironic grin.

Miles barked a laugh. "Naw, bastards'd never make it that easy on us, General. No, we've got alchemists."

Roy sat up in interest. "Recruits?" he asked. He knew they couldn't be any of the alchemists the military already had, ever since Parliament declared State Alchemist a civilian position, the military had been hurting for alchemists, and once the war started, well...the ones they had were spread thin. Roy's unit only had one alchemist besides himself, and she wasn't much of one. She didn't have much training, or much talent, but Sophie was the best of a bad lot. Roy just didn't have the time to take care of the duties of an alchemist on top of those of a general.

"Civilian," Miles said, sitting on the corner of Roy's desk and picking up the forms. "Two of them." he began leafing through the papers. "I think I saw something in here about...here it is. One of them is a retired State Alchemist."

Roy blinked. He had thought that those who were willing to come out of retirement had already done so. Still, the older generation of State Alchemists might still hold some loyalty to the military. They would certainly be more likely to volunteer for duty than the mistrustful public. At any rate, Roy certainly wasn't about to turn away a skilled alchemist just because he might be a bit past his prime. The war wasn't going well and if he was honest, they could use all the help they could get. "When are they due to arrive?" he asked, reaching out and taking the papers from Miles.

"Two days, if they don't run into any trouble."

Two days. Sophie was going to be thrilled when she found out that she could go back to normal duties. Roy thumbed through the papers, scanning the documents for names. He found them on the third page, and his stomach gave a dizzying flip.

Edward Elric and Alphonse Elric. He read the names a second time, a third, making sure it wasn't sleep-deprivation playing tricks on him. Gods above. Edward. How long had it been? Ten years, eleven? He stared, unseeing, at the print on the page. They hadn't parted on good terms, and as badly as Roy wanted to see him again, he was equal parts terrified. He was fairly sure that Ed had never really forgiven him.

"Did they request this assignment?" he asked stiffly, stuffing his inner turmoil back down where it belonged.

Miles gave him a strange look. "Request? Oh!" he snapped his fingers, eyes lighting in recognition. "I knew I recognized the name Elric. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist, wasn't he?"

Roy sighed and nodded.

"I doubt they had time to take a piss, let alone put in a request for assignment." Miles scratched his beard thoughtfully. "When they realized what they had HQ probably shipped them out before they had time to change their minds." He slid off Roy's desk. "Chances are they sent him to you because he's been under your command before."

Roy made a sound of agreement. Miles was probably right, and they were suffering the worst for the alchemist shortage. Ed and Al would be a huge asset, and he couldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of utilizing that asset. Whatever those feelings might be. The fact that after a decade apart something so small as seeing Edward's name on paper stirred such a strong reaction in him was troubling. Roy had convinced himself that he had moved past he small blond years ago.

If he didn't date much at all after that, well, helping rebuild a nation was busy work. And maybe he did still think about Ed often, but it was natural to wonder how someone you cared for was doing when you hadn't seen them in ages. Wasn't it?

God damn it.

He didn't need this now, he really, really didn't. Roy looked up at Miles, who was watching him with a slight frown. Wondering how much of his thoughts had shown on his face, Roy schooled his features into a neutral expression. "Well, you might as well go let Meyers in on the good news. She'll be happy to hear that she won't have to listen to the bitching about bad coffee anymore." He straightened the documents in his hands and passed them back to Miles. "I'll leave the Elric brothers up to you; I'm sure you can keep them busy."

Miles grinned. "You bet I can. We've got more then enough to keep a pair of alchemists busy until the end of time."

"Then I'll leave them in your more than capable hands."

Taking the papers, Miles offered a lazy salute, and then turned to leave. He paused, tapping the papers against his thigh and turned back, brows creased in concern. "Roy, something's bothering you about this."

It wasn't a question, and Roy sighed, knowing the captain wouldn't be put off. He was almost tempted to tell the truth and say 'Well, Edward was my very underage lover, and he was very angry with me when I broke it off. This could lead to a bit of awkwardness.' Granted, Roy thought bitterly, if anyone could take the news that their commanding officer was a pedophile without being fazed, it was probably Miles. He was a good man and a good friend, and it was more tempting to finally confide in someone about Edward than he cared to admit. Instead, he merely said, "Edward and I parted on bad terms. I'm afraid he probably won't be too pleased to see me."

"Even after all this time?"

Miles seemed skeptical, and Roy had to smile. "Believe me, Ed can hold a grudge."

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much. You haven't seen him in ages, right?" Roy nodded and Miles shrugged, "So, chances are he isn't still angry. And if he is, well, you must have really pissed him off, and you probably deserve it."

Roy snorted a laugh. The man had no idea. "Aren't you curious about what happened?"

Miles grinned. "Honestly? It's killing me, but I'm just a nosy old man. I can tell you don't want to talk about it."

Not for the first time, he was grateful for Miles. He hadn't seen most of his old crew since the start of the war, and it was nice to have someone he could trust. He offered the man a grateful smile and Miles bobbed his head amiably and left, door clicking shut gently behind him.

Roy rested his chin on folded hands. Over a decade, and chance had brought the two of them together again. He got news of the brothers now and then via Riza --she corresponded with Alphonse on a regular basis-- but he had never really expected to see either of them again. Roy knew, he _knew _that he had made the right decision, all those years ago, but that didn't stop him from wishing there had never been a decision to make.

_A cold shock along his side startled Roy awake, and he blinked at his young lover in sleepy confusion. Ed was still asleep, lying at an odd angle, head pillowed on Roy's stomach. Reaching out, careful not to wake the sleeping alchemist, Roy shifted the cold automail hand from where it had crept up along his side. Edward mumbled and pulled the arm to his chest, shifting slightly and snuggling closer to the older man as he did so._

_A glance at the clock confirmed he had several hours left before he had to rise for the day, but he didn't feel much like going back to sleep. Instead, Roy simply lay there, content to watch Edward sleep. Reaching out, he brushed his hand against soft hair, gently stroking the head resting against him. Edward smiled, gold eyes cracking open the tiniest bit, sleepy gaze finding Roy's for a moment before his eyes slid shut again._

_It was at that moment, on that peaceful, lazy morning, that Roy realized he was in love._

_It settled in his chest like a physical thing, deep and heavy and so, so impossible. Roy took a shallow, shuddering breath, and Ed slept on, blissfully unaware of what his lover was going through. Staring dazedly at the spill of golden hair across his stomach, he wondered when it had happened. When things had gone from grudging mutual respect, to friendship, to attraction and bad judgment, to...this. To spending every free moment together they could spare without arousing suspicion. To treasuring the times he could keep Edward all night and going mad the times he couldn't. Somehow, he had fallen in love when he wasn't looking._

_It was completely surreal. Never in his life had he let a relationship get to the point he found himself at now. Emotional attachments complicated matters, and that was something he knew he couldn't afford. So he had always kept himself guarded, and ended any relationships that threatened to become more than casual._

_Except this time he hadn't._

_Maybe because the whole situation was so impossible he hadn't even seen it coming. Bad enough that he sleeping with a subordinate --a male one at that-- but Edward was only fifteen years old. He was still just a child. Roy knew that and had carefully ignored the fact for far too long. He hadn't wanted to consider the consequences of what they were doing, but he realized he was going to have to. Things had gone so much farther with Edward than they ever should have. It should have stopped when Ed had kissed him for the first time. _

--lips on his, fumbling and awkward, inexperienced but urgent--

_Roy pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, shutting out the memory. Sleeping with Ed was such a gross error in judgment that it was probably unforgivable, but falling in love with him was worse. Sex was just sex, but love...Roy sighed inwardly. The longer he kept him, the harder it would be to let him go._

_And he would have to, in the end. He would have to, because there was no future for them, because one day Ed would snap out of it and realize he wanted a normal life. That he wanted to get married and maybe have a kid or ten. After everything Ed had gone through, he more than deserved a little normalcy. Roy couldn't let his own selfish desires get in the way of that. He reached out, hand hovering just over his lover's cheek. _

_For Edward's sake, he had to end it._


	2. Chapter 2

Goodness, I've been writing like a mad woman lately. Anyhow, a few notes before we start.

In the course of researching something else, I discovered that in the manga, there is actually a military character by the name of Miles. I didn't know this when I started, so I just wanted to point out that my Miles is a completely different character to avoid confusion. Also taking a bit of liberty with the geography of Amestris since I couldn't find much information on it at all.

Enjoy! **  
**

::Chapter 2::

Ed draped bonelessly over the side of the jeep, squinting against the dust being kicked up as they bumped along the dirt road. No trains ran to this far-flung corner of Amestris, and they had left the paved roads hours ago. It seemed an odd place for Creta to attack, really. According to the lieutenant serving as their driver, before the war there was nothing out here but a few secluded villages and a tiny border outpost.

Of course, if the letters from Riza were any indication, nothing about this war made much sense at all.

Wiping sweat and dust from his face, Ed glanced back at Al. His brother sat with his head tilted back at an awkward angle, eyes closed, attempting to escape the persistent heat by sleeping. Not a bad idea, really, Edward thought, looking upward. The thick canopy kept out all but the most determined sunlight, but the constant shade seemed to do nothing to mitigate the sticky heat. It was so hot and so damned _humid_ that it felt like his skin was melting off.

The jeep bounced sharply as they hit a large pothole, and Ed banged his chin on the door. Swearing under his breath, Ed rubbed his chin and sat up straight. The lieutenant, who had ditched first jacket and then shirt ages ago, shrugged bare shoulders and offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Not exactly a smooth ride out here."

"I'll live," Edward said, slumping back against the seat and watching the scenery move by. He had never been so far south before. They were only six hours or so as the crow flies from the southern border, beyond which lay Areugo. Considering Amestris had such shitty relations with her neighbors, it was probably a miracle Areugo hadn't jumped on board with Creta. A damned good thing they hadn't, but still a miracle.

This place though, this wasn't the Amestris he knew. It might still be within her borders, but the towering trees and thick foliage seemed to belong somewhere else. He could occasionally hear the harsh cries of birds and animal sounds less easily identified above the rumble of the jeep. He knew the constant drone of insects would be there as well, the next time they stopped. The thick jungle was an alien environment to him, and Ed wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Except that the damned heat was murder, and would probably kill him in days.

The ride continued in bumpy silence for another hour or so before the thick jungle opened up a bit and the road smoothed out. Still not paved, but no longer that miserable, pitted dirt track that liked to pretend it was a road. Ed roused himself from his half-doze, looking around. The lieutenant, --Willins, Ed thought he said his name was-- noticed his interest and said, "We're about an hour and a half away. The general was so relieved when he heard we were picking up alchemists," he added by way of conversation, "we all were, really."

Ed nodded absently, then blinked when the words penetrated. General? _He?_Ed looked back at Al, still sleeping in the back. Alphonse had told him they'd be serving under Hawkeye, but she was a colonel, last he'd heard. Of course, they always could have given her a field promotion since the last letter. Mail was pretty erratic from the front, and now he could see why. "Which general?" Ed asked, tension knotting his stomach. He tried to ignore it. Even if Al was wrong, even if they weren't stationed under Hawkeye, chances were good it still wasn't... well. Wasn't.

Willins glanced over at him, surprised. "General Mustang," he replied easily. "No one told you?"

It felt a bit like someone had just punched him in the head. "No," Ed said weakly. "No one told me. We...I thought we were supposed to stationed under Colonel Hawkeye."

"The colonel? Her unit is some hundred miles north of here last I heard. Probably just a miscommunication somewhere. This may be our own little slice of hell out here," he continued, blithely unaware of his passenger's distress, " but General Mustang is the best commander you could ask for." The last was said proudly.

"I'm sure he is," Ed replied stiffly. Roy Mustang was probably a great commander...if you weren't Edward Elric.

A decade of hurt and anger rushed to the fore, feelings it had taken him years to suppress striking with a startling intensity. He couldn't do it. He couldn't see the man, work with him. Not after what had happened. Sure, it was pathetic; Ed knew that. It was pathetic to be so fucked up over a man who had dropped him like a bad habit nearly eleven _years_ago. He had some to terms with that ages ago. He could handle it. What he could not handle was idea of Mustang discovering just how pathetic he was. Of Roy realizing that after all these years that what had happened between them still mattered to him.

That was absolutely unacceptable.

It was unacceptable, and it didn't have to happen. He was no longer the military's dog. He was a civilian now. A _volunteer. _That meant that he could turn around and go home any time he damn well wanted to, and he was going to take advantage of that. He didn't care if they needed alchemists; as soon as they rolled in to camp he was telling them he had changed his mind.

This was all Al's fault. Damn his brother into talking him into this.

Ed was going to give his little brother an earful just as soon as he woke up.

* * *

The anxiety had settled in his belly as soon as he had learned what _--who_-- they were driving towards and began to steadily grow. Ed clutched the seat, fingers digging into the fabric and tried to convince himself that it wouldn't be that bad. If he was lucky, he might not even see Mustang before they left. If he was lucky. Ed snorted and earned curious glance from Willins. Since when had he ever been lucky when it came to Roy? 

"Almost there," the lieutenant assured him, and Ed wondered if the man was mistaking dread for eagerness. He reached out, snatching up the radio handset. "Banana Cream, this is Rhubarb, come in. Over."

Ed blinked at the man, sure he had to have misheard. A moment later the radio crackled and a sharp, feminine voice snapped. "Key Lime here, Banana Cream is on break. What do you want, Rhubarb? Over."

Willins winced and answered, "Aw, Lizzie. You can't still be mad about--"

"This is an official radio channel, _Rhubarb, _so if you don't have anything official to say, get off the damn channel. Over."

Willins shot him a long-suffering look, and Ed gave him a pat on the shoulder in sympathy. Willins sighed and said, "Just wanted you to know that the ETA on the package is about fifteen minutes. Over."

"Roger. Out," came the curt reply, and the radio fell silent.

Edward couldn't help it, he laughed. In the four years he had spent in the military, he didn't think he had once heard such ridiculous code names. Willins shook his head and put the handset back. "Who came up with _those?"_Ed asked.

"What? Our code names?" Willins grinned. "Captain Bennett was the culprit this time, I think. He gets hungry, and next thing I know our code names are all types of pie. We change our codes every few months, and I swear they get sillier every damn time. Might as well give the Cretans a laugh when they intercept our transmissions, yeah?"

"Well, at least he has a good sense of humor," Ed replied, amused.

"You're telling me," Willins said, navigating the jeep around a fallen tree that partially blocked the road. "We're certain he's responsible for a good half of the practical jokes, too, but so far no one has caught him in the act. You and your brother will be reporting directly to him for the most part."

They lapsed into silence, Edward's humor evaporating at the reminder. Fifteen minutes, the lieutenant had said. He really shouldn't be so nervous, and he blamed it on the heat. And Al. Alphonse was the one who had insisted they were needed, had worn Ed down with his arguments and sheer persistence. Eventually, Ed had given in because if he hadn't, Al would have gone alone and there was no way he could let him do that.

Mustang was never supposed to be a part of the deal.

Crawling over the seats and into the back, Ed jabbed his sleeping bother none-too-gently. Alphonse started awake, peering at Ed with sleepy eyes. "Brother? We there?"

"Almost, but I need to talk to you first."

Edward's urgency penetrating his sleepy haze, Al sat up straighter. "What's wrong?"

"You told me we were going to be stationed under Riza," Ed said, and despite his best efforts the words came out accusatory.

Alphonse blinked at him, confused. "I said we might be, Brother. There was never a guarantee. Why?"

Edward barely had the presence of mind to remember the man in the front seat, and lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Well, it isn't. It's _Mustang_."

Confusion gave way to understanding, and Al's eyes went soft. "I'm sorry, Brother, I didn't know." With a glance at the lieutenant, he leaned closer and whispered. "Will you be okay?" That earned him a sour stare, and Alphonse sighed. "It's been a long time, Brother. It might not be so bad. Might even be good for you, to see him again. Get some closure, you know?"

"Closure," Ed repeated in disbelief. He loved his brother, he really did, but sometimes Al got some crazy notions in that head of his. "I don't want closure, Al, I just want to never see him again. That should be simple, right? Avoiding one person in the whole damned world?" He slumped back against the seat and sighed.

Alphonse shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, but there isn't much we can do."

"We're leaving."

"What?"

"As soon as we get there," Ed said firmly, "we are turning right back around and getting the hell out."

"You can't be serious!" Al squawked, and Willins half-turned.

"Everything all right back there?"

"We're fine," Ed assured him. When he was sure the lieutenant's attention had returned to the road, he whispered. "I'm dead serious." Al frowned, and Edward sighed. "I can't do this Alphonse. I _can't._I know it doesn't make sense to you, but...I don't think I'll ever be ready to see him again." It was hard to admit it, even to his brother. He felt like...well, like a wuss. People got dumped every day and managed to move on just fine. Sure, his case was probably more unusual than most, but still. Most of the time, he managed to forget Mustang had ever existed, but that didn't change the fact that he hadn't been able to develop any sort of romantic interest in _anyone. _Not for lack of trying, he had wanted to prove to himself that he had moved on _so_ badly, but it had just never happened. Eventually, he had just given up.

Al stared up at the trees for a long moment before he nodded. "Okay, Brother. Okay. We can put in a request for reassignment if that's what you really want."

What Ed really wanted was to go home and forget the whole thing, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Riza's letters about the personnel shortage, particularly when it came to alchemists, had Al all gung-ho to do his part. Which probably hadn't been the colonel's intention, but here they were all the same. "Thank you."

Alphonse squeezed his arm gently, and Ed was suddenly grateful for his brother all over again. Al might not really understand his reluctance after all these years, but he supported him regardless. It was nice to know that there was always at least one person on his side.

It wasn't long before first the walls, then the gatehouse came into view. There was a soldier leaning against the gate, and as they drew closer, Ed realized it must be 'Key Lime'. She was pretty, he decided as they rolled to a stop. Or rather, she would be if she wasn't glaring daggers at poor Willins. "Hello, Sergeant," he said, hopeful.

"Lieutenant," she returned curtly, scanning the jeep briefly and marking something down on the clipboard she carried. She thumped a fist on the gate, calling, "Open up!" After a moment, the gate did so, and she waved them on through, returning to the gatehouse without a second glance.

Willins sighed as he put the jeep into gear, pulling slowly into the outpost. The lieutenant had told them the outpost used to be nothing more than two ramshackle buildings in the jungle, no more than three soldiers posted there at any given time. It used to be something of a 'doghouse' post, back before the war. In the five years since Creta had launched the first attack, the tiny outpost had exploded, first tents, then as the war dragged on, buildings popping up as needed. These days, the outpost was more of a small town.

Edward had hoped they could just sort of sneak in and back out again, but he was beginning to see that wasn't going to happen. The jeep was attracting a lot of attention, and --good grief-- was that a _crowd?_

It was. Apparently their arrival was news enough to gather an impressive group on onlookers. Ed sighed. So much for doing things quietly.

Willins snapped him from his thoughts by reaching back and tapping his leg, pointing towards the group when he had Ed's attention. "There's Captain Bennett and General Mustang there, off to the left. See 'em?"

It felt like his heart just stopped. He did see them. Even at this distance, even after all these years, he picked Roy out immediately even though he was barely more than a blur of blue and black. He clutched at Al's hand, panic welling in his chest, and incongruous as it was, his first thought was that he hoped Roy looked old. He was what, forty now? Stupidly, and a little bit viciously, Ed hoped he looked every day of it and more. Somehow, he was sure that if Roy wasn't still that smug, painfully attractive bastard he remembered, it would make things easier.

They drew closer, and Ed wondered why he had bothered to hope. Roy looked...good. Better than good. Amazing. His only concession to age that Ed could see was a touch of silver at the temples. The bastard. He wasn't going to get old, he was going to get _distinguished._Another black mark against him in Ed's book.

And then he realized that if he could see Roy, Roy could see _him, _and he was suddenly very interested in Alphonse, who was patting his hand soothingly, brows creased in a worried frown. The jeep stopped, and he heard Willins hop out. He risked a glance up, carefully keeping his eyes on the lieutenant, who was offering a salute to the man Ed refused to look at. "Here they are, sir, safe and sound. Might have to scrape them off the seats though," he added with a grin. "Permission to go crash, General? I'm beat."

"Go ahead, lieutenant," Roy replied, and hearing that voice again hurt. He paused, then added dryly, "And next time, try and keep your personal affairs off the radio."

"Yessir," Willins said, ducking his head in embarrassment. He turned back towards the jeep, offering Ed and Al a wave before trotting off.

Edward realized there was no getting out of it, and somehow, the knowledge calmed him. He wasn't a kid anymore. He was an adult, and damned if he would give Roy the satisfaction off seeing him in hysterics. The man had enough of an ego as it was. Gathering his anger around him like a shield, he took a deep breath, pushed open the door and stepped out.

He and Al were met with hoots and hollers from the gathered men, even a few scattered cheers and whistles. He wasn't sure what to do, but Roy saved him the trouble. "Don't you have something better to do?" he barked.

"No, sir!" someone called back, earning a few laughs.

"Then I suggest you find something!" The man Willins had identified as Captain Bennett roared. The men fell silent, and he continued, "Because if you have time to loiter around gawking at our guests, than you certainly have time to scrub out the privies!"

Ed had never in his life seen so many men scatter quite so fast. Roy, he noticed, was fighting a smile and losing miserably. "Thank you, Miles."

"Any time, sir."

Then Roy turned his attention to him, and Ed met his eyes without flinching. It gave him confidence, and he squared his shoulders slightly; he could do this. He could. It surprised him when Roy sighed slightly before extending his hand. Ed shook it, and that too turned out to be relatively painless. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Hello, Edward, Alphonse. This," he gestured to the man beside him, who nodded in greeting, "is Captain Miles Bennett. You'll be getting your assignments directly from him." He paused while Ed and Al shook the captain's hand, then continued. "I'm sure that you're both tired after your trip, so I'll leave you with the Captain to get settled." He paused, eyes finding Ed's again. "It's good to see you again," he said, and Ed was startled to find that the words sounded entirely sincere.

Roy was already walking away before he could muster a reply, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when the captain suddenly clapped him on the back. He laughed, and Ed was surprised to see the man looked a good deal older than Roy. "Grab your bags, boys, and let's get out of the damned heat."

Ed did as he was told, exchanging a glance with Al as they followed the captain. "The general told me we couldn't hope for a better pair of alchemists," he said, grinning over his shoulder. "And let me tell you, we've been dying for some talent. We lost our last real alchemist --beside the general that is-- six months ago."

"Hey! With all due respect Captain, you can shove it."

Ed turned to see a young girl trotting up to them. Ed would put her at eighteen at the most. She thumped Captain Bennett in the shoulder. "Thought I'd come to see what a couple of 'real' alchemists look like." She thrust out a hand towards Al. "Private Sophie Meyers."

Shifting his bags to free up a hand, Al shook it. "Alphonse Elric, and this is my brother, Edward," he said.

"Hey," he said, shaking the girl's hand as well.

"Nice to meet you." she said, falling in to step beside them. "I gotta say, I'm glad you're here. I was so relieved when they told me they'd picked up two new alchemists and I could go back to regular duties."

"You're an alchemist?" Alphonse asked, curiosity piqued.

Sophie snorted. "In the loosest sense of the word, maybe. I'm crap at it to be honest. But the general doesn't have the time to be a general and an alchemist too, so," she shrugged, "the job fell to me. Anyway, I'm on duty in five minutes, I gotta go. Just wanted to say hello and welcome!" She turned around and left just as quickly as she had come.

"Meyers is a good sport," Bennett commented, directing them through a row of squat wooden buildings. "The men like to complain, especially about the coffee, but she works hard."

Ed nodded absently, then suddenly remembered that he needed to tell the captain they were leaving. "Listen--" he began.

"Here we are!" Bennett interrupted, pointing at a small building off to the right. "The men were so excited when they heard you were coming, they put up private quarters for the two of you."

Ed secretly wondered if the captain knew what he was going to say and was trying to guilt trip him. "We can't stay here," Ed said.

Bennett shot him a bewildered look. "Well, if you boys would rather stay in the barracks, you're more than welcome to."

Ed sighed, shaking his head. "That's not what I meant."

The captain sighed. "No, I didn't think it was. In you go," he said, ushering them inside, "We'll talk inside."

The small house was surprisingly nice. The main room contained two beds, a table with four chairs, and it looked like they had a private bathroom in the back. Ed knew enough to know that these kind of accommodations were usually reserved for higher ranking officers, and he sighed, sinking into one of the chairs. Once Al and Captain Bennett were seated, the latter fixed him with a stern look. "So what is this all about?"

"I apologize for coming all the way out here and getting everyone's hopes up, but we can't stay. We're going to be heading back to Central as soon as possible to put in for reassignment."

Bennett nodded slowly, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "This wouldn't have something to do with the general, would it?" Ed paled in spite of the heat, and the captain sighed. "I thought so. Don't worry, all he told me about it was that the two of you had parted on bad terms some years ago." He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table and pinning Ed with a firm stare. "Can't say I know what has the two of you more prickly than a pair of frightened porcupines, but I will say this: We need you. Badly. Supply lines out here are practically non-existent, and we've been almost totally self-sufficient here for the last three years. Urabi doesn't push us much these days, and to hear the general talk, she's as tired of this bullshit as we are, but that doesn't change the fact that we've been toe to toe with the enemy for years and that's a hell of a drain on the resources."

"We have to try and keep our men fed, clothed and armed, and all we get from the higher-ups are erratic shipments when they pull their heads outta their asses long enough to realize that maybe we need supplies. We get what we can from the land, and thank god there's good hunting out here. Beyond that, Sophie has been buried under a workload she was never trained for, and the general has been turning himself inside out tying to support her when he can on top of all the rest of the garbage we pile on him."

The man certainly knew how to lay it on. The worst part was, Ed didn't think the captain was trying to guilt him, he was just laying down the facts. He shook his head slowly, feeling like a coward. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

Bennett let out a loud sigh and leaned back, wooden chair creaking at the movement. "I'll make you a deal then. There isn't another train through Kent for three weeks, and I doubt you want to camp on an empty train platform in the middle of nowhere 'til then. So, I want you to work with us in the meantime. If you still want to go in the end, I'll have Willins drive you back out to Kent. What do you say?"

Edward looked at Al, and his brother said, "I think that's fair. We should give it a chance."

What the hell. It wasn't like they had much of an option anyway. Edward nodded. "Three weeks."


	3. Chapter 3

::Chapter 3::

Roy's head hit the hard wood of his desk with a very satisfying thunk.

If he couldn't manage more than a minute in Edward's presence without turning tail, he was going to have some serious problems. He couldn't use Miles as a go-between forever, and Roy had his share of experience handling awkward situations. It should be easy by now. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that while he expected anger, he had hoped otherwise. Hoped that somewhere in the intervening years, Ed had understood why what Roy had done was necessary.

Judging by his cold reception, such was not the case.

Roy sighed and sat upright, peeling off the requisition form that stuck to his forehead and slapping it back down on the pile. Snatching up his pen, he twirled it in his fingers. Roy had work to do, he didn't have the time to indulge in self-pity. Forms to sign, orders to approve, pointless exercises to organize, so on and so forth. He had already put pen to paper before his thoughts caught up with him.

Self-pity?

Frowning, Roy shook his head slowly. That wasn't right. He was disappointed that Edward hadn't seemed even remotely pleased to see him, but that was all. Roy had hoped the two of them could put the past where it belonged, and if they couldn't be friends, he hoped they could at least be civil. Which Ed had admittedly been, but Roy suspected that was because he hadn't actually _said _anything. When Edward was angry, civil was usually beyond him.

At least, that was how it used to be. If he wanted to be honest with himself, Roy had to admit he didn't know Ed anymore. For all he knew, the younger man had finally managed to put the reigns on that temper of his. Or perhaps he hadn't changed at all. Roy couldn't know, because he hadn't been there.

Sadness filled him at the thought, and Roy closed his eyes and let his head drop into his hands. No, he hadn't been there. He hadn't been there because he had broken off his relationship with Ed for the boy's own good, and after that, Edward hadn't _wanted _him around. There was nothing Roy could do but respect his wishes. A clean break was probably best for both of them in the end.

It was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn't going to get any work done. He could sit here thinking in circles, or --he glanced at the clock-- he could get ready for his date early. Smiling at the thought, he scooped the papers on his desk into a semblance of order and stood.

Maybe he'd even arrive before Zira did for once.

* * *

_Ed covered a yawn, following the smell of coffee into the kitchen. The stuff tasted like shit, but it helped wake him up and he was going to need the extra kick in the pants if he didn't want to fall asleep standing up today. He hadn't gotten much in the way of sleep, and Ed grinned as he poured himself a cup. Not that he was complaining. Not one bit. _

_He wandered out into the living room, where Roy was already awake and in uniform, coffee and newspaper in hand. Ed flopped down on the sofa beside him, peering at the paper curiously. Something about the new traffic laws. Boring. He glanced up to find Roy looking at him, and the older man smiled a bit mischievously. He set down his own cup and paper, and Ed protested when he plucked his mug from his hand and set it aside as well._

_He reached out to snatch it back, only to have Roy pull him into his lap. Ed squeaked in surprise and stared at Roy for a moment before he snorted and tried to struggle to his feet. Unfortunately, he had no leverage, and Roy kept him easily. Eventually Edward gave up the fight, pinning Roy with a petulant glare and folding his arms in a huff, waiting to be released. _

_Roy, for his part, seemed to have no inclination to do so. He reached over Edward, retrieving both his paper and his coffee. Giving in, Ed shifted around so that he was more comfortable, resting his head against the colonel's shoulder. The blue fabric of the jacket was rough against his face, and he wondered idly if the uniform was new; some of his others were starting to get a bit worn. Ed was content for the moment to remain in the circle of Roy's arms, the comfortable silence broken only by the rustling of the paper._

_A few minutes passed, and Ed let his eyes drift closed. He was warm and comfortable and Roy smelled very nice. Maybe he'd take the opportunity to catch a few more minutes. _

_Some time later a touch on his hair startled Ed from his doze. He blinked sleepily up at Roy. "Wha-?"_

"_Much as I'd love to let you sleep here all day, you might want to think about getting out of here before Al tears the city apart looking for you." Roy smiled a bit. "Again."_

_After that episode, Ed was fairly certain Al knew exactly where he was disappearing to, but his brother hadn't said anything, and he didn't bother sharing the suspicion with Roy. Instead, he simply heaved an exaggerated sigh and said, "Yeah, I suppose so." He made to stand, but was stopped by Roy's hand on his cheek._

_Ed glanced up at him, questioning, but the expression on Roy's face was completely unreadable. Fingers traced down his cheek and along his jaw, and Ed couldn't help but lean into the touch. Cradling his face in gentle hands, Roy leaned down and kissed him._

_Soft and slow, skilled lips that turned his bones liquid. Ed made a small sound in his throat, clutching tightly at Roy's jacket. Unhurried and almost lazy, these kisses were Edward's secret favorite. They inflicted a giddy paralysis on him, left him feeling weak in an amazing sort of way, and he could barely manage to remember to breathe after they ended. Not that he would ever say so; Roy was smug enough as it was without Ed inflating that ego even further._

_Roy pulled back, planting a kiss on Edward's jaw as he did. Their eyes met, Roy smiling at him just a little, and Ed thought distantly that he must be in love, because he couldn't imagine it was possible to feel more strongly for someone than he felt for Roy at that moment._

Ed pressed his hands against his eyes, wishing he could shut out the world. So the dreams had come back; he should have expected it. It had taken him years to escape them the first time, and the mere sight of Roy had been all it took to bring them back. The worst part of the dreams was that most of the time they weren't dreams at all, but memories. Painfully clear recollections of the time he had spent with Roy. Sometimes they were innocent, sometimes not. Memories of an intense debate over a long-finished meal, of a heated night spent in bed. Worst of all were the ones that were neither, the dreams of quiet moments spent together, of smiles and kisses and gentle touches.

Those were the ones that reminded him why he was so in love and why he was such an idiot for it.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Edward glanced across the room at Alphonse, who was sleeping sprawled across the narrow bed; thin blanket dangling from his foot and pooling on the floor. Ed watched him sleep for a moment before rummaging though the clothes he'd dropped on the floor for his watch. Flipping it open, Ed frowned at the hands. He'd slept less than three hours.

Well, he wasn't going back to sleep, not after a dream like that. He got to his feet and dressed, the heat causing cloth to stick to skin in uncomfortable ways. Ed considered waking Alphonse but decided against it, fishing out the notebook his brother always kept and leaving a note. Ed was going to see if he could track down the captain; a little work would go a long way towards distracting him.

Ed slipped quietly outside, squinting against the sun. The only problem, he thought, walking out from the cluster of buildings, was that he had no idea where Captain Bennett might be. Turning a slow circle, Ed spied what appeared to be a technician sitting outside of one of the buildings, a screwdriver hanging out of his mouth and the remains of what might have been a hand radio in his lap. Couldn't hurt to ask.

The man didn't look up as he approached, absorbed in his task. "I don't suppose you'd know where I could find Captain Bennett, would you?" he asked.

"The captain? Should be in the mess right about now." The man glanced up and gave him an odd look before splitting into a wide grin. "Hey! You're one of the new alchemists, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Ed replied, a little surprised before he realized he shouldn't be. An unfamiliar face probably wasn't very common this far out.

"Well, welcome to hell," the soldier said amiably. "We're happy to have you, let me tell ya. Hey, you don't suppose you could, y'know," he pointed to the busted radio, "I can't get the damn thing to work."

"Sure," Edward said, crouching down and assessing the damage. If felt good to have something useful to do. It'd been a long while since he'd been much use to anyone. A clap and a surge of alchemical energy, and the radio was as good as new. The soldier looked thoroughly impressed when he passed the repaired radio back.

Flipping the radio on, he grinned at the crackle of static. "Hey, this is Pecan Three, does anyone read? Over."

"This is Banana Cream," a deep voice responded. "I read you Pecan Three. Over."

"Thank god! Was just checking to see if the radio was working, sorry to bother you. Out." The tech switched off the radio and beamed at Ed. "Thanks buddy! The thing was driving me bonkers. Say, what's your name?"

"Ed," he replied, returning the smile without even thinking about it. "And you're welcome."

"Sergeant Martin Cade. You can call me Marty though, we don't stand much on formality round here these days. So," he said, getting to his feet and wiping the dirt from his pants. "D'you know where the mess is?" Edward admitted that he didn't, and Marty pointed south. "Just follow the path here on out to the square, and take a left. The mess is at the end of the row, biggest building in the area, can't miss it."

"Thanks," Ed said, offering a wave before walking off.

The temperature was starting to dip a little, and between the drop and the intermittent breeze, it was going a long way towards making him feel a little more human. Maybe after he found the captain he'd see about finding a shower. The more he thought about it, the more it appealed to him. Yes, definitely a shower. As long a one as he could get away with.

The mess was precisely where Marty had said, a short but wide building that was probably large enough to hold every man under Mustang's command with room to spare. The dull roar of a hundred different conversations hit him as soon as he opened the door. The long tables were teeming with soldiers, and Ed glanced around in dismay. Obviously, he'd stumbled in during meal time; scanning the crowd for the bald head of Captain Bennett, he hoped that didn't mean Mustang was in this circus somewhere. No matter how well things had gone earlier, the last thing he wanted to do was stumble across the man by accident.

No one paid him any mind, and he was about to ask for help when he spotted the captain at a table in the back near the kitchens. Mustang was nowhere to be seen, and he heaved a sigh of relief before wading through the crowded room towards the table. Bennett spotted him just as he reached the table. "Hey there, Ed! Thought you and your brother would be out for the rest of the day, the heat usually does that to new folks." He jabbed the man beside him with an elbow. "Shove over, Thompson."

The man did as he was told, and Ed sat between Thompson and the captain, acutely aware of the curious stares he was receiving from the rest of the table. Bennett draped an arm easily over his shoulder and said, "Ladies and gents, this is Edward Elric, one of our new alchemists. I expect everyone to make sure both he and his brother feel welcome." He leaned over Ed, pointing to Thompson. "Ed, this is First Lieutenant Michael Thomson. This," he said, pointing to the next person, "is Warrant Officer Roman Avery. Private Valyn Alder, Second Lieutenant Zane Turabar, Sergeants Lily Brooks and Blake Doger, Captain Vander Ashwater, and Corporal Emmie Sparks."

"Emiline," the last corrected with a sigh. Bennett ignored her.

Surprised by the variety of ages and --more unusual-- ranks all sitting together, Edward nodded politely at the table, privately thinking it would be a miracle if he remembered anyone's name.

"Doger," Bennett continued, leaning over so he could see the man at the end of the table. "Would you mind getting Ed a plate? Poor kid is probably starving after a week of nothing but train food."

Sergeant Doger shrugged and stood. "Sure," he said.

"Get me some coffee while you're at it," someone added.

"Yeah, me too!"

"Do I look like a waiter?" Doger snapped. "Get your own damned coffee." He stomped off towards the short line at the counter.

"He'll bring the coffee, watch," the young man across from him said, grinning at Ed. He was the youngest of the lot, the private. Alder, Ed's mind provided after a moment. "He's just pissy because he has dish duty for a week. The general caught him sleeping on the job the other day," he confided, and Ed twitched slightly at the mention of Mustang.

"You gossip like an old woman, Private. Put a cork in it," the captain said mildly, before looking at Ed. "So, what brings you? Just here for some food or did you need something?"

"Actually, I was going to see if you had any work for me, but halfway here I decided a shower sounded like a better idea."

"That explains the smell!" Someone quipped, earning a few laughs. Ed made a face at the good-natured ribbing, sticking his tongue out at the culprit before returning his attention to the captain.

Bennett seemed vastly amused. "Once you're finished eating, we'll see about finding you a wash and a uniform."

Edward blinked. "Uniform?"

"The enemy knows that we use civilian alchemists," the captain explained. "The uniform ensures that you look just like everyone else. Keeps you from becoming a target." It made sense, Ed supposed, though he didn't really like it. Still, there was no point in taking unnecessary risks.

Doger returned before he could reply, however, a large bowl of stew in one hand which he set in front of Ed, and a tray with mugs of coffee enough for the table in the other. Grumbling, he deposited the tray in the middle of the table and stalked off. Private Alder winked at Ed as though to say, _told you so, _and Ed returned the wink with a smile before digging in to his food with gusto.

* * *

"You are early today, General." The voice was rough and unusually deep for a woman, the words thickly accented.

"Not early enough, it seems," he replied, sitting beside her. Zira didn't look at him, gaze fixed on something in the trees, but she did smile. She was probably the darkest human being Roy had ever seen, skin so black it was nearly blue, the white of her smile startling in contrast.

"No," she agreed at length, finally looking at him. She stood and stretched, hand coming to rest easily on the hilt of her sword. In the year since they had started meeting, Roy had come to understand that the gesture was an unconscious one, not meant to be threatening. He had thought her insistence on carrying such an old-fashioned weapon amusing, until he'd seen her use it. The sword was a part of her, an extension of her own limbs that she could use with deadly precision.

She seemed unusually restless, pacing circles around the boulder where Roy sat, and finally he asked, "What's wrong?"

Zira paused in her restless prowl, glancing at Roy and smiling a little. "Is it so obvious?"

"Very."

She jumped up onto the boulder, perching easily with arms folded over knees. "I have heard many whispers these last few months, and they trouble me. I am having difficulty maintaining morale, I have received word that my king is displeased with me, they are pressing me to attack and I fear I will not be able to put it off much longer." Zira sighed heavily. "There is rumor that my king thinks to replace me."

They both knew what kind of disaster could result if that happened. The proud commander and Roy had started as tentative allies, and as time passed the relationship had evolved into friendship. Zira's belief in the rightness of the war had faltered and died years ago, and now her loyalty to her king and her people were at odds with her personal sense of honor. She didn't want the war any more than Roy did. They had come to a truce of sorts nearly a year past, and ever since the two factions had left each other largely alone, save the times when Zira staged minor skirmishes to keep her superiors off her back.

If they replaced her, the attacks would start in earnest again, and Roy didn't think they had the resources to mount a proper defense. Not without having to resort to the use of his alchemy. Roy would use it without hesitation to protect his people if forced, and Zira understood that. Neither of them wanted Roy to be backed into a corner where he had no other choice. "What do you plan to do?" he asked, subdued.

"Do?" she snorted. "What _can _I do? I either do as they want, or I continue as I have been, but that will only stall the inevitable. It will buy us a few months at best." Zira made a sound of wordless frustration, and Roy put a comforting hand on her back. "They've been keeping me under surveillance; they fear me a traitor."

Surveillance? Roy stiffened, glancing around the clearing. "Were you followed?"

Zira shot him an affronted stare. "You think me so foolish? I may be old, boy, but I assure you my mind has not gone just yet."

"Sorry," Roy said, properly chastised. "I just worry about you."

The words appeared to mollify her, and her expression softened. "I am not the one you should worry for, General. There is...something happening. Something important, but as I am no longer in favor I do not know what it might be." Zira smiled, the expression sharp. "I will find out, though. Meet me again, one week from today and I will tell you what I can."

She stood, and Roy shook his head. "I wish you'd just defect."

"Never, General. My loyalty is to my people, no matter what misgivings I may have. I am touched by your concern, but that will never change. Surely you can understand?"

He did understand, but she was treading a very thin, very dangerous line. Zira merely wanted to mitigate the loss of life as best she could. Unfortunately, her superiors would not see it that way. "I do, but I don't have to like it."

"No," she agreed. "You don't. You do respect it though, and that is why I like you." Zira looked up at the canopy, and then sighed. "I would stay longer, but I dare not." She took a few steps backwards, "Remember, one week!"

"One week. Be careful, Commander."

"Always."

Then she was gone, vanished back through the trees. Roy sat for a few minutes more, digesting what she had told him. It was bad news all around, and the worst part was there wasn't a damn thing he could do about any of it but sit, wait, and hope for the best. It was a damned frustrating position to be in. Worse, even if Zira somehow managed to keep on as she had been, it didn't make a damned bit of difference on the whole. It wouldn't end the war—one woman could not convince a country to back down.

Nothing would change.

* * *

"That should do it," Miles said, adding the final bundle of neatly folded clothing to the top of the pile. He had given Ed four uniforms, two for himself and two for his brother, as well as several sets of the more comfortable off-duty attire.

"Thanks, Captain," Ed replied, struggling to get a grip on the large stack. He finally managed to brace it under his chin, and Miles had to resist the urge to give him a pat on the head. Edward was just so_short _for a full-grown man that Miles had to keep reminding himself that Roy had warned him against any sort of commentary on the kid's height. He remembered the stories about the Fullmetal alchemist, and Miles was honest enough to admit that Ed could probably beat the crap out of him with both hands tied behind his back.

Of course, he had an ulterior motive for being good. Miles didn't want to give Ed any more reason to want to leave than he already had. Even so, he_was_ tempted to crack a joke or two.

"Do you really think we'll need so much?" Ed asked, sounding a bit skeptical. "We're only going to be here for three weeks."

"Well, call me optimistic," Miles said, smiling down at the younger man, "but I'm hoping you'll change your mind."

Edward gave him a look that said clearly, _don't hold your breath, _but what he said was, "I'd better be getting back. Al's probably up by now."

"Of course, you boys have a nice evening. The mess is always open if your brother is hungry, and I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning to put you two to work."

"Sure, thanks again!"

Miles watched him walk off and sighed inwardly. The more time he spent with the boy, the more he realized it was going to take something drastic to change his mind. He had hoped that giving him time to adjust would do the trick, but he was beginning to see that wasn't the case. Damned if he was going to let such a valuable resource slip through their fingers. If he was going to convince Edward to stay, first he needed to talk to Roy.

Grabbing the radio at his belt, Miles pressed the button and said, "Key Lime, this is Chocolate Cream, come in. Over."

Static crackled and Parker's tinny voice replied, "I read you Chocolate Cream. Over."

"Can you let me know when Pumpkin gets in? Over."

"Came in about twenty minutes ago. Over."

Miles raised an eyebrow at that. That was unusual. His meetings with the commander usually ran much longer. "Roger. Out."

Changing course for the general's office, Miles mulled over how to broach the subject. Ideally, Roy would be the one to resolve whatever bad blood the two were dealing with, but after his display earlier, Miles didn't think he would do anything without a bit of pushing. He had never in the five years he had served under the man seen him so flustered, not even the time the general had become the --entirely accidental-- victim of one of Miles' more inspired pranks involving two monkeys, an old jeep engine, and several hundred paper clips.

Miles rapped on the door once before pushing it open, finding Roy not behind his desk, but staring out the window instead. The general turned and leaned against the sill, giving his subordinate a wry look. "One of these days, I'm going to have to explain the point of knocking."

Ignoring the jibe, Miles grabbed a chair and swung it around, straddling the back and giving Roy a pointed stare. "We need to talk."

Roy frowned. "Sure," he said, taking a seat behind the desk.

"I spent a bit of time with Ed today, and I'm starting to get the impression that whatever is going on with you two is more serious than I was led to believe." Miles jabbed a finger at the younger man, "Don't think I didn't notice you turn tail and run like a scared rabbit this afternoon."

Roy winced. "That's a little harsh." He paused. "Was it that obvious?"

"To me," Miles said dryly, then sighed. "You need to talk to him. Things between the two of you need to be resolved before we lose them."

"It isn't so simple," Roy said, resting his chin on folded hands. "It's...complicated."

"Oh, bull," Miles snorted. "You're being a chickenshit."

"I am not!"

"You_are. _And that isn't like you at all."

Roy sighed and shook his head. "I appreciate your concern, but you just don't understand the situation, Miles."

"Fine then," Miles leaned forward intently. "Tell me. Make me understand."

Roy was silent for so long that Miles was beginning to think he wouldn't answer at all. Finally Roy sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and staring upwards for a moment before looking Miles in the eye.

"Edward and I used to be lovers."


	4. Chapter 4

Notes: Sorry this took so long! After this chapter, Best I Ever Had will go on hiatus while I finish Dichotomy, which I'm hoping to have finished by the end of September.

**:Chapter 4:**

Miles blew out a heavy breath. "Shit, Roy. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that." He dragged a hand over his face and shook his head. "I can understand why that might be awkward as all hell -- though honestly, I never pegged you as the type-- but you need to settle things between the two of you before we lose him."

"I know," Roy said, slowly lacing and unlacing his fingers. If things went badly with Zira, they were going to need Ed and Al like a drowning man needed air. Roy understood that, but he had hoped that giving Ed a wide berth was the best solution. Miles obviously did not agree, and he was probably right.

Roy glanced up from his hands to find Miles peering at him strangely. In his experience, the older man was remarkably non-judgmental, a rare trait in a military man. Miles had the gift of being able to accept people as they were, but he wasn't an idiot. It wouldn't be long before he put the numbers together and realized something didn't quite add up. "I'd never have guessed," Miles said at length.

"Edward was the exception, not the rule," Roy said, smiling slightly when Miles laughed a little too loudly, awkward. Roy felt a bit of sympathy; it was a hell of a thing to spring on a man, but well... Miles _had _asked.

"That's one hell of an exception, General. So--" Miles stopped suddenly, brows furrowing in a thoughtful frown. Roy could practically hear the gears turning in his head. Finally, Miles shook his head slightly and pinned Roy with a solid stare. "How old was he?"

Roy took a breath and reminded himself that Miles was one of the few people in his life who would probably understand. Probably. "Fifteen."

Miles was still for a long, long moment, his usually expressive face giving no indication of his thoughts. At length he said, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't lay you flat on principle." His tone was mild, and Roy knew Miles wouldn't actually hit him. At least, he was pretty sure he wouldn't.

"It was completely consensual, if that's what you're worried about," Roy said, knowing that it didn't make things any better. He had to resist the childish urge to add that Ed had started it, which wasn't entirely true anyway. Edward might have been the one to kiss Roy, but it was Roy's fault that the young man had the opportunity to do so.

Miles relaxed slightly, shoulders sagging as his shook his head. "Gods above, man. Consensual or not, he was just a kid. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," Roy said dryly. Miles was echoing the question he had asked himself a thousand times. "As soon as I came to my senses I ended it. Edward was angry." Roy shook his head. That wasn't right, Ed was beyond angry. "Furious," he added, voice dropping slightly. "I found myself on the wrong side of his temper more than once, but I had never seen him that angry."

_--Such fierce and overwhelming rage, barely concealed hurt, and Roy wondered briefly if he was making a mistake. Edward would never forgive him--_

"Essentially," Miles began, and Roy shook the memory away, "what you're telling me is that we might lose the best alchemist we could hope to have because he's still pissed that you dumped him?"

"Essentially." Roy couldn't help the smile. It was a bit ridiculous really. "I doubt he's still genuinely angry; I'm sure it's just the principle of the thing at this point."

Miles drummed his fingers on his knee in agitation. After a moment he snorted and said, "My oldest grandson is fifteen, you know. When I think--" He aborted the thought with a shake of his head. "I'm having a hard time reconciling the idea with the man I know. Generally speaking, I don't give a damn what people choose to do behind closed doors --it's none of my concern-- but this..." He trailed off with a sigh.

Roy had hoped the conversation wouldn't go so far, but he wasn't surprised it had. "I was in love with him, Miles."

Blue eyes softened and Miles leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You can't fall in love with a child."

That was probably true, but in spite of bouts of immaturity, Edward was never a child. Not really, not even in the beginning. "He was young, but Edward wasn't a child." He searched for some way to make Miles understand. "It wasn't one of my best moments, and it isn't something I'm proud of. Not because Ed couldn't handle it, but because I knew I wasn't any good for him and I let it continue anyway. When I broke off our relationship, it wasn't because I wanted to, it was because I knew that it would be best for him --and for myself-- in the long term."

Roy dragged a hand through his hair. The conversation was dredging up old feelings that he'd thought properly buried years ago. Ever since he had learned that Ed would be serving under him again, he had discovered that those feelings weren't buried as deeply as he would have liked. Roy supposed he had always known on some level that he still loved Edward. Maybe it was because feelings that strong never really went away, or maybe it was just because he was an idiot that couldn't let go. Working with Ed wouldn't be easy, but he supposed he deserved the emotional beating for letting himself get so entangled with Ed in the first place. "I wanted to do right by him."

Miles nodded once, slowly. "I believe you. Unfortunately, it's come back to bite us in the ass." He smiled wryly. "There's a reason they have rules against fraternization, you know."

Roy arched an eyebrow. "This coming from a man with a deep and abiding respect for rules and regulations."

Miles grinned, and Roy knew he had been forgiven.

* * *

Dark brows dipping into a deep frown, Vander shook his head. "This is very bad news, sir. We can't stand up against a full-scale assault."

Roy nodded wearily. Vander wasn't saying anything they didn't already know. His captains were the only two aware of his meetings with the enemy commander, and he had just finished reporting on his conversation with Zira. "We always knew this was a possibility, and she's given us valuable time to prepare if nothing else. Miles," he said, turning his attention to the other man.

"Already ahead of you, General," Miles said, propping his feet on Roy's desk and tipping his chair back on two legs. "I've got Edward working on repairing guns and equipment, and Alphonse is taking care of making sure our ammo stockpile is up to snuff. I don't plan on letting the Cretans catch us with our pants down."

Roy smiled briefly. "Good man. Vander, I want you to double the security detail and start organizing more drills. We've been letting discipline get pretty lax around here, and we can't afford to let things keep going as they have been."

Vander nodded. "Sir."

"Miles, have someone get a message out to Western HQ and let them know about the situation." He paused, then added, "Might as well ask for more supplies while we're at it. We can't rely on them, but if they do come, it'll help."

"Yessir."

Roy studied his men, and for a moment he envied Miles his lack of ambition. Some days he would give anything to be the man following orders instead of the one giving them. It was impossible to be unaware of the lives that rested on his decisions; a burden that seemed to grow progressively heavier the longer the war dragged on. "Dismissed."

Both men saluted, but Miles hung back after Vander had gone. "You should go now. Get it over with." Roy sighed and nodded. He hadn't forgotten his promise to speak with Edward. Miles offered him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Warehouse two."

Miles left, and after a moment Roy followed. He wasn't looking forward to it, but it was something that needed to be done.

* * *

The alchemical reaction faded, and Ed tossed the newly repaired rifle onto the stack with the others. He stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks. Spending three hours repairing years worth of rusted, busted old rifles wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. At least he had it better than his brother. Poor Al was stuck making ammunition from raw materials and whatever useless old junk would serve. At least his task had required some thought, examining each rifle and figuring out why it was defective or otherwise less than useable. Alphonse was just performing the same transmutation over, and over, and over. Ed wouldn't be surprised if his brain had melted from sheer tedium and fled through his ears by this point.

Edward tugged at the shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back and grumbled. Stupid uniform rule anyway. He hadn't even bothered with the jacket; not many of the others seemed to wear them, and the rest of it was miserable enough in the sticky heat. One would think the military might give some consideration to the men working in hotter regions of the country. He snorted at the thought. Right.

Winding his way around pillars of boxes stuffed with who-knew-what, Ed poked his head into the space that Miles had appointed Alphonse and asked, "How's it going?"

Al offered him a tired smile. "If I never see another bullet, it'll be to soon. Remind me why I thought this was a good idea?"

Ed pitched his voice in a passable imitation of his brother's. "We have to do our part! The Colonel's letter said they were desperate for alchemists, and--"

"Ha ha." Al cut him off, and Ed grinned. "That was a rhetorical question anyway." He clambered to his feet, bending backwards and cracking his back with a satisfied sound. "I'm starving, want to take a break and get something to eat?"

"I thought you'd never--" Ed paused, cocking his head at the sound of footsteps. Probably the captain checking up on them. "Come to give us a reprieve?" he called.

The owner of the footsteps appeared a moment later, and Edward choked back something that sounded suspiciously like a squeak. Mustang didn't seem to hear, and greeted them with a nod and smile. "Not quite."

Edward wished vaguely that the man didn't have such an amazing smile. It made it harder to remember that he was a bastard.

Dark eyes traveled to the neatly stacked boxes of ammunition and he asked, "So how's it going?"

"Well enough," Al said brightly, saving Ed from having to answer. "It's more tiring than I expected though."

Lips twisting in a wry grin, Mustang said, "Don't I know it. This was actually my job when I could make the time. As you can see, that wasn't often." The smile faded. "I'm grateful that you're both here," he said sincerely.

"We're happy to help, General," Alphonse said, and Edward swallowed a snort. 'Happy' wasn't the word he'd have used. Al glanced at him before returning his attention to Mustang. "Ah, we were just about to take a break for lunch..."

Mustang nodded, "I'm sorry to keep you, but this won't take long." His gaze shifted to Ed, and the blond had to resist the urge to cringe. "I just wanted to speak with Edward for a moment."

Oh, no. Absolutely no. Private conversations were dangerous territory, and frankly he had no faith that he would be able to keep his head on straight. Ed steeled himself and brushed past the other man, "Yeah, well we're starving, so it'll--"

"Please."

The word stopped him cold. It wasn't demanding, or pleading. Roy just sounded... tired, and Ed felt his resolve crumble. He heaved a sigh and turned, looking at his brother. "Go on ahead, I'll be along in a few minutes."

Al glanced uncertainly at Roy and then at Edward before nodding a slipping around Mustang. He squeezed Ed's shoulder briefly as he passed, and then he was gone.

Unable to avoid it any longer, Ed folded his arms defensively over his chest and met Roy's eyes. "So what do you want?" he snapped.

"I wanted to ask you stay."

Edward sighed. He should have seen this conversation coming. "I can't."

"You won't."

Ed bristled, scowling at the other man. He hated arguing semantics. "That's right; I won't." He didn't want to be there, and that was all that mattered.

Roy shook his head, sitting on one of the dusty boxes and staring at Edward imploringly. "Don't do this because of me."

Edward snorted. "Someone has a high opinion of himself," he muttered. It didn't matter if it was true, he didn't want Roy to know that he still had such an effect.

The general gave him a pointed look, and Ed realized he wasn't fooling anyone. "This isn't about you and me. This is about them," Roy gestured vaguely. "I know Miles told you something of our situation, but I don't think you realize just how badly you're needed. Supplies from HQ are so erratic that I'm struggling to keep my men fed. This is supposed to be a military outpost, but we're spending more time hunting and gathering food than we are scouting. I've received intelligence that we'll start seeing real combat again, and soon. Without alchemists to bolster our supplies, that's going to put us in a very dangerous position."

Roy leaned forward, and Ed could see the weariness in his eyes. He looked like he hadn't seen a good night's sleep in too long, and Ed felt a twinge of sympathy. "We're all stuck out here in this godforsaken patch of jungle, and all we have to rely on is each other. The government is too disorganized to count on; it's a miracle they sent you here. I know you've never cared much for the military, but this isn't about politics or personal conflicts. This is about defending our land and our people.

"There are twenty-six villages between here and the next military outpost. Thousands of people live in those villages; women, children, the elderly. We are the only thing standing between them and the enemy. They are depending on us to protect them." Shoulders sagging slightly, Roy said, "We're all they've got."

In the face of Roy's earnest words, Edward couldn't help but feel guilt over his selfishness. "One alchemist can't make such a big difference," he protested weakly.

Roy smiled slightly. "You more than anyone should understand exactly how much a difference one alchemist can make."

Edward stared at his shoes. The bastard was right, and while it chafed, Ed had to admit it. He was being selfish and petty, but it wasn't about him. It was exactly what Al had tried to tell him last night and he hadn't wanted to hear. "You're right."

The admission clearly caught Roy off guard. "What?"

Edward looked up with a small self-effacing grin. "You're absolutely right. I was so concerned with what I wanted that I forgot why we came here in the first place. We'll stay."

Roy seemed completely taken aback, and Edward mentally congratulated himself on surprising the other man. "I...that's very mature of you."

Ed shrugged, offering Roy a cautious smile. Maybe working with him wouldn't be so bad after all. "It happens, but don't get used to it."

That earned him a quiet chuckle, and Edward shifted uncomfortably in the silence that followed. Roy stood, brushing the dust from his backside. "Thank you." He made as if to take a step and paused, looking sidelong at Ed. "Are you still angry with me?"

Ed was surprised by the question, though he supposed he shouldn't be. He resisted his first impulse to snap out some snarky reply, instead giving the question some thought. Was he angry? No, he didn't think he was. Not even he could manage to nurse his anger for ten years. He was hurt and more than a little resentful; the anger had faded but the heartbreak never quite had. He couldn't tell Roy any of this however, so all he said was, "No. Doesn't mean I want to spend much time around you though. No offense."

Mustang inclined his head slightly. "None taken," he said, and Ed believed him. "Sorry to keep you."

Edward watched him walk away. "Hey," he called, and Roy stopped, half-turning. "Get some sleep, you look like shit."

Roy flashed him a smile, and it hurt to see. "I will."

* * *

"How much do you know of our history?"

Roy started at the sudden question, spinning in a circle before he spied Zira sitting beneath one of the tall trees. He took a deep breath and willed his hammering heart to slow. He had been too busy the last week to keep his promise to Ed, and the lack of rest was beginning to tell. She peered at him from under raised eyebrows, but didn't comment. After a moment Roy sat beside her. "I grew up in the east. We didn't really learn much about Creta beyond the fact that it was there."

She nodded. "I suspected as much. Before I tell you what I have learned, I think perhaps you will need to understand us a bit better." She unfolded her legs and stretched them out before her, pausing a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Our kingdom is a young one. When I was a child, Creta was a nation of warring tribes. We had no central government, no leader; each tribe governed itself as it saw fit. We each had our own rules and our own laws, ones that often put us at odds with each other. A thousand tiny civil wars, all starting and stopping and starting again. That was way we lived, how we had lived for hundreds of years."

Zira glanced at him, and Roy nodded to show he was listening. He knew very little of the Cretans as a people, but he recalled hearing something similar from Miles once. "Creta is a beautiful land," Zira continued, and she smiled, her fondness of her homeland evident. "Mostly, it is a sea of grass and sky, going on as far as the eye can see in any direction. The nations around us had never expressed any interest in us before; we kept to our own lands and we had no resources of any note. You know of Jarda, yes?"

Roy squeezed his eyes closed briefly, thinking. Jarda was a small coastal nation to the west of Creta if he recalled, one Amestris had little to no dealings with. He opened his eyes, and it was much harder than it should have been. He made a note to catch a couple of hours when he got back. "I know of it."

"Jarda is a very small nation, but a rich one. They trade with lands across the sea, and it brought them a great deal of wealth, made them arrogant. Even though my people vastly outnumbered the Jardans, they felt that divided as we were, we would be an easy mark. They sought to expand their small country, and so they began an incursion into Creta.

"In the beginning, my people stood no chance against the organized forces of Jarda. Tribe after tribe, village after village, they marched eastwards." She sighed. "My people are proud, and very few chose to surrender and so very few survived. Despite our disorganization, the news of the Jardan advance speared quickly, and within a month of the first attacks, word reached even my village, so close to the Amestris border. I was very young then, but I remember that the concern was not great. The plains were vast after all; surely the Jardans would not march so far?"

Zira laughed a little at that and shook her head. "They were fools in their complacency. Time passed, and the enemy continued its advance unhindered. Every now and again we would receive news of another village razed, another tribe decimated. If things had continued along that path, my people would be nothing but a memory."

"Obviously that isn't what happened, though," Roy said.

Zira nodded. "One day, a young man and a handful of warriors came to our village. He claimed to be building a army to fight the Jardans. He asked if any would join him. They laughed at this man, this _boy _that would make such an outrageous claim. He remained calm in the face of their scorn, and he said something I have not forgotten in all of the years since. He said, 'Have our people grown so complacent that they are content to wait for slaughter? Have you no pride, no honor, no fighting spirit? I would rather fall fighting for the lives of my people than sitting at home waiting for death to come to me.' They were powerful words, and the people grew silent upon hearing them, shamed. Amidst this silence my mother stood and told the stranger that she would fight.

"A few others followed her lead. I was left in the care of my grandmother as my mother went to fight a war on some distant front. They passed from village to village, their numbers swelling steadily until they had built a true army. My mother became his right hand, his first commander. By the time they reached the front, they had a force three times as large as the Jardans, every man and woman a true warrior. The Jardans crumpled under the force of our combined might and they fled; running back to their rich cities like scared children." Zira grinned viciously.

"That man, then known as the General, had accomplished something no one in our history had; he had united us with nothing more than the strength of his will. At that point, the people might have dispersed back to their homes and things might have returned to the way they were before, but he would not allow it. Never again would he allow his people to be weakened by division and petty squabbles. He took my mother as his wife, and began working toward truly unifying our people."

She chuckled slightly. "My mother told me once, years ago, that he'd never had any intention of becoming our king. She said that he'd had some vague notion of being an advisor or some such. That lack of desire for power was what made him such a good leader, I think. He always had the best interests of the people at heart, and because of that he was an easy man to follow. As soon as I was old enough, I began training as a warrior and served in his personal guard for many years. I have never once regretted that path." She fell silent, and after a moment said quietly. "I had such high hopes, but it seems that the son is not the father."

Roy silently digested what he had been told. It was a fascinating story, certainly, but he didn't see how it related to their current situation. He was about to ask precisely that when a thought struck. "You said your mother married the king?"

Zira raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

Roy knew that the man currently ruling was not the one she spoke of, but rather his son. "Then you're _related _to the king?"

Zira cocked her head slightly, a second eyebrow joining the first. "He is my brother. Does it matter?"

Roy's head spun with the possible ramifications of the information. "Of course it matters!" he said, wondering how she could not realize that. He dredged up what little knowledge he had of the royal family. The king had taken the throne shortly before the start of the war; he had no wife or children. Roy had also been under the impression he had no siblings, but he supposed no one had bothered in check into a half-sister on the mother's side. Which meant… "You're the next in the line of succession," he said dumbly.

She blinked. "Yes, I suppose I am." They stared at each other for a moment before she frowned, "I have no intention of deposing my brother, General, so you can get that notion out of your head _right _now."

Roy winced, a little embarrassed that she had seen right through him. "You have to admit it would resolve our situation nicely," he said with a small smile.

She snorted. "It would do nothing of the sort. You don't seem to understand how much the people loved my stepfather. If I attempted to steal the throne from his son, they would sooner see me dead than follow me."

"But if he died?"

It was hard not to squirm under her hard stare. "I do not like where this conversation is going." Suddenly her shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her. She sighed heavily. "My sword has always fought for the will of my king and the good of my people, but now those things are no longer the same. My king no longer seems to have the good of the people at heart, and I find myself with divided loyalties. The thought of betraying him makes me ill, but it might come to that for the sake of the greater good."

Roy studied her. For the first time in their acquaintance Zira looked her age. She seemed so weary, and Roy knew exactly what it was like to lose faith in a government you once believed in. It must be even harder for someone like her, a woman defined by her morals and her sense of honor. Whatever it was she had discovered, it must be dire indeed. Roy took her hand a gave it a comforting squeeze. "What did you learn?"


	5. Chapter 5

Notes: Well, hello! It's been a while, hasn't it? My apologies for the extremely long delay, but here it is! After this I plan on alternating chapters between this story and Dichotomy, so barring accidental death or sudden loss of my fingers, the wait for the next chapter shouldn't be nearly as long. ;)

On an unrelated note, I would love to know why some words get smushed together when I upload. I think I caught them all, but you never know.

**::Chapter 5::**

"He seeks Antaj," Zira said at length. There was a distinct weight to the words, and when she paused, Roy realized that she expected him to understand the significance.

He shook his head slowly, "I'm afraid I don't follow. What is Antaj?"

Zira turned to stare at him in amazement. "Surely your people have legends of Antaj?" When he shook his head again she mimicked the gesture in disbelief. "Perhaps you know it by a different name. It is the heart of the Empire that once stretched from sea to sea; my ancestors and yours as well, I'm sure."

That did tickle something in the back of Roy's mind, but he couldn't quite grasp it and he shrugged slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing at all? No legends of Antaj, or the sky city?" She seemed appalled, and Roy felt a bit like a chastened child who didn't remember his lessons. She peered at him for a long moment before shaking her head. "Perhaps your people came here after the end of Empire. Who can say? Antaj is an underground city, miles of labyrinthine passages deep below the earth, said to only be accessible to the sorcerers of the time."

"Sorcerers?" Roy said, disbelief creeping into his tone. Zira was an intelligent woman, but the Cretans as a whole tended toward the superstitious; it seemed to him that their king was chasing a myth and nothing more.

Zira frowned at him. "Perhaps they were alchemists," she said. "Even now their abilities seem more magic than anything; so long ago that might be exactly what the people believed it to be. Either way, it is said that they possessed great knowledge and great power, much of which was left behind in Antaj when they made the sky city."

Roy found himself looking up at the canopy in spite of himself, and he heard Zira chuckle. "The sky city is not there to be seen, General. Stories say that the city was also a large craft of sorts, meant to take them to places unknown. They left this land a long, long time ago."

His weariness was telling, making him look for flying cities he knew weren't there. Roy offered her a wry smile. "Then the king is after this mythical city because of the knowledge he believes is there."

"Antaj is no myth, General," Zira said, tone grave. "Nor is the knowledge it contains. In the wrong hands --in _any _hands-- such knowledge could be catastrophic. However, the location of Antaj and the means to enter it have been lost to the years."

"Then why do you seem so troubled?" Roy asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly and wishing they were discussing something more concrete than legends.

Zira braced her arms on her knees and sighed heavily. "The king has discovered the location of Antaj. It is now only a matter of discovering an entrance."

"Where?"

Zira glanced at him before turning her gaze to the ground beneath her feet. "Here. Antaj runs beneath us."

Roy stared at her, turning the revelation around in his mind and wishing he were a little sharper. His thoughts shifted to the ruins that littered the area, ruins that Miles had said belonged to some long-gone civilization. Could it be coincidence? Maybe, but it would be folly to write Antaj off as nothing more than legend, not when it was possible that it contained such power. "The ruins?"

"Are remnants of Antaj, yes. My king has not yet found one that will grant him access to the city beneath, but it is only a matter of time."

"He's here, then?" Weariness evaporated at the slim prospect of a clean end to this tired war. Assassination wasn't something he cared for; cloak and dagger had its place, but Roy was always reluctant to employ it. In this situation however, he would be remiss in his duty to his nation if he didn't at least _try _to take the bastard out, and if Roy thought they had the forces to win in a head to head battle, he'd have done it years ago. Which left something more underhanded, but far more likely to be effective.

"Yes," Zira's voice was strained. "I have been relieved of my command, and he watches me with hawk's eyes. It was luck I was able to slip away today; he will not permit me to be so lucky a second time. This will be our last meeting, General." She stood, brushing the dirt from her pants, and bowed; hands out and palms up, a gesture of great respect among the Cretans and one Roy had never seen her use. "I pray this information will aid you in preventing further bloodshed. Good luck, my friend."

"Hold on a minute," Roy said, scrambling to his feet as she turned to go. "You can't tell me you mean to just walk away?" It was madness; after today they would be certain she was a traitor, and in Creta traitors were executed. "They'll think you're a traitor."

She sighed and turned to face him, inclining her head slightly. "Yes."

"Then come back with me," Roy said urgently. The last thing he wanted was to see her dead for the non-crime of preventing loss of life.

"General," she said with a smile. "How many times have you asked me this, and how many times have I said no? I am not ashamed of my actions. What I have done I have done for the welfare of my people; when I return I will do so with my head held high. If I run it is as good as admitting to wrongdoing. Besides, there is no guarantee I will be executed; they have little proof after all."

"Zira," Roy sighed, not for the first time growing a little frustrated with her rigid honor. "This isn't the time to cling to your pride, not when it's your life at stake."

The former commander cast her eyes skyward for a long, silent moment before turning her back on Roy. "In the face of death pride is all we have." She was gone before Roy could muster a reply, and for a long moment Roy considered chasing after her and dragging her back to camp kicking and screaming if necessary. She'd never forgive him, but at least she'd be safe.

Dragging a hand wearily over his face, he let her go. She was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. Part of Roy thought she was a damned fool, but another part admired her resolve, and it was that part that had to let her go. All he could do now was hope that the king might show his own sister a little mercy.

Damn, he needed a drink.

* * *

"Here, why don't you show me the array you use?" Alphonse said from somewhere to his left. Edward lounged against the side of the barracks, hands folded over his stomach and doing his level best to take advantage of the cool breeze for a quick nap, but Al's impromptu alchemy lesson kept catching his attention.

"Okay," said Sophie, and Ed grimaced as he listened to her scratch the array in question into the dirt. He could practically _hear _how awful it was, and Al's outraged squawk a moment later confirmed it. Alphonse seemed to view bad alchemy as some sort of personal attack, and took a great deal of pleasure in teaching others. Ed figured it was only a matter of time before Al realized he was an alchemy teacher at heart; the universities in Central would bend over backwards for someone of Al's caliber. He really ought to talk to him about it once this war business was over and done with.

The sound of Al wiping out Sophie's failed attempt and etching it into the dirt once more. "Precision is very important in alchemy; most arrays are symmetrical in nature, and those that aren't can often be difficult to reproduce."

"Right," Sophie said, and she didn't sound at all upset about Al's earlier outburst, just interested. Tough stuff, that one. She'd be a good student. "The general told me that."

There was a pregnant pause, and Al said, "The _general_ taught you?" Edward grinned; Alphonse sounded absolutely horrified that Roy might be churning out such lousy instruction.

"Oh, no. I mean, he tried to help me when he had time, but I learned from watching my sister, mostly. She'd get pissed when she caught me spying on her practice, but I was really curious. So I just pieced things together based on watching her and what I learned from the few books I could get my hands on. S'why I suck so bad."

Alphonse hummed. "You really aren't bad for someone who's basically self-taught," he told her. "You've just got a lot of bad habits, like messy arrays. Alchemy is two parts science and one part artistry. The appearance of your array will absolutely have an effect on the outcome of-- oh, hello General."

Ed opened his eyes in time to catch Sophie leaping to her feet and snapping a crisp salute; Roy seemed a bit amused by her enthusiasm. "At ease, Private." He glanced between Ed and Al, amusement fading quickly. He looked like shit, worse than he had the other day. Roy was exhausted, that much was obvious, but there was a tightening around his eyes that said something else had him upset; something he was trying very hard to hide. Ed frowned, worried in spite of himself. "I was wondering if I could pick your brains for a minute," he didn't wait for an answer. "Have either of you heard of Antaj?"

Edward sat up straight, exchanging a glance with Al. Of course they had; it had only been one if the most promising and most disappointing dead ends in their search for the philosopher's stone. "Sure," he said, wondering why Roy would ask about it now, or care. "The Alchemist City. There's a ton of legends around the place; that it was where alchemy originated, that there's some sort of ultimate knowledge hidden there. It's just a myth, though. Al and I spent months looking into it and never found a thing."

"You looked for it?" Roy seemed surprised, and Ed rolled his eyes.

"The whole 'ultimate knowledge' thing sounded pretty promising, of course we did," he shrugged. It still chaffed a little that they had wasted so much time on nothing, but it hadn't been the first false lead, or the last. "We must have torn the whole border apart up north; if there anything to find, we'd have found it."

"North?" Roy frowned, and Ed could practically see the gears turning. "Where?"

"A bit north of Western, that's where all the stories said it was. Why are you so interested in this all of a sudden?" There was something to this; Roy didn't just pull the subject from thin air for the sake of conversation.

"That explains why he was pushing Riza so hard," Roy muttered. He was silent for a moment before saying, "You're dismissed, Private."

Sophie blinked, looking a little put out, but she just mumbled, "Yessir," and made herself scarce.

Roy waited until she was gone, before looking around. There were a few off-duty soldiers here and there, out enjoying the brief respite from the killer heat, and Roy sighed. "We'd better take this to my office; the fewer that know what I have to tell you, the better."

Edward exchanged a long look with Al, his curiosity sitting up and wagging its tail like an excited puppy. Why would Roy bring up Antaj now, so long after the information was relevant? Not for them, then, but for himself-- but what would a legendary city have to do with a war? It made no sense, and Ed was already thinking circles, wondering what precisely Roy's angle was.

As soon as the door to Roy's office closed behind them, Ed asked, "What's this all about?"

Roy perched on the edge of his desk and stared at the floor thoughtfully for several minutes before he answered. "I have-- _had_, an informant among the Cretan regiment here. She told me that the whole reason for this war is because their king is trying to find Antaj , which I presume he believes is on our side of the border. If she's correct, and I have no reason to doubt it, this explains why he was pushing so hard further north; he'd probably heard the same stories you had, and come to the same conclusions."

"But he stopped," Alphonse said hopefully. "So maybe he realized it doesn't exist?"

"No," Ed said with a shake of his head, perching on one of the hard backed chairs and turning the situation around thoughtfully. "If he thought he was chasing shadows, he'd have withdrawn, called a truce, pushed the attack, something. This war has to be as hard on Creta as it is on us; no one would prolong it without a reason. It's not that he believes it doesn't exist, he thinks it's somewhere else."

"Exactly so," Roy said, nodding once in Ed's direction. Ed smiled slightly, and for a moment the years vanished; they were back in Roy's old office and he was just a kid with some talent and a lot of determination. Roy spoke, and for a brief instant, Ed almost expected a quip about his height, but what came out was nothing of the sort and the moment passed, putting him firmly back in the present. "He believes it's here, and he's trying to find his way in as we speak."

"I see," Al said, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "Do you believe the king is right? That it's really here?"

"Not really, no, but I'm not willing to risk being wrong." Roy leaned forward intently. "If it does exist, it's imperative that we find it first. If it doesn't, all the better, but I'm willing to waste the time and manpower to be certain. I'd like one of you to take a few men and investigate some of the ruins around here, see if you can find anything. I'm afraid I can't spare both of you, and honestly I'd rather not send either of you, but if this really was an alchemist's city, then it's possible the men would miss something important that an alchemist wouldn't."

"I'll go," Edward spoke up immediately. He had to resist the urge to wriggle around in excitement; he might no longer have need of the 'ultimate knowledge' the city was said to contain, but it would be a hell of a discovery regardless.

Roy nodded once, sharply. "Take Captain Bennett with you. He's from the area; he knows the ruins better than anyone else."

* * *

"Come on Al, don't be like that," Ed pleaded, and received a sour stare and stony silence in reply. Tucking his hands in his pockets, Edward tilted his head and gave Alphonse the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. He understood why his brother was mad, hell, if their positions were reversed he'd be raising an unholy stink. "C'mon. You know I'd take you if I could."

"I don't see why _you _get to go," Alphonse muttered, shooting Ed a nasty look. "It was my idea to come here in the first place. If it wasn't for me, neither of us would be in a position to look for Antaj."

Sure, it was his idea to come. Al was the one who wanted to help the war effort, and he would be. By being bored to tears transmuting bullets while Edward was off hunting for a legendary city. Ed stifled a grin at the thought, because it would ruin his carefully constructed oh-so-contrite image. And piss Al off. Which was a bad idea if he wanted to be on his brother's good side again. Ever. "It isn't like this'll be your only chance to see it," Ed reasoned. "If we find anything, it'll take ages to catalogue everything. You'll have plenty of opportunities to explore the city, Al. It's not like this is going to be the only chance."

"I suppose," Al sighed, looking only slightly less annoyed. After a moment, he brightened. "At least I won't be the one tromping through the sweltering heat looking for something that might or might not exist." Alphonse seemed greatly cheered by this notion. Ed was beginning to suspect his brother might be just a little bit evil.

"Speaking of," Ed sighed, "I gotta go meet the captain."

"Yeah," Al said, good humor evaporating. "I've got work to do too. Maybe I'll see if Sophie has time to help. At least then I'll have _someone _to talk to."

"I'm a bastard, I get it," Ed said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You love me anyway. Besides, you can't tell me you aren't jumping for the chance to straighten out her alchemy."

"Maybe a little," Al confessed with a smile. "Alchemy that bad should be criminal." Ed reminded himself to start sending out some letters when this was all over; there had to be a school somewhere in need of an alchemy instructor.

They said their goodbyes, and then Ed was out in the bright morning sunlight. It was still early enough that the temperature was almost pleasant; something he intended to enjoy thoroughly while it lasted. Captain Bennett and Lieutenant Willins were already waiting for him by the barracks, both men carrying a heavy looking pack and a rifle. "Expecting trouble?" Ed asked with a nod towards the guns.

"Well," Bennett drawled, "we are in the middle of a war." War. Right. Ed decided to pretend he hadn't completely forgotten the fact in all the excitement.

"Not to mention there are more than a few things out there that'd eat us, given half the chance," Willins added.

"Point taken," Edward said dryly. "So, where to first?"

"The biggest ruin in the area is about six miles to the Northeast. I figure that's the place to start; if we're going to find a secret entrance to a lost city, it'd be there. Although," he shook his head slightly, "I explored just about every ruin within a hundred miles when I was a kid. I doubt there's anything out there to be found."

Edward wasn't sure which way he wanted it to be. On one hand, if the city did turn out to be a myth there was no reason for the war to continue. On the other, if the city _was_ real it would be the most amazing find in his lifetime. Maybe ever. "Well, if this alchemist's city exists, I can't imagine they'd make the entrance something obvious to any curious kid wandering by." He and Al had done a lot of research on Antaj in pursuit of the philosopher's stone. One of the few things the legends seemed to agree on was that the residents of the city were reclusive at best, hostile at worst, and did not welcome intrusion.

"Maybe so," the captain agreed, passing Edward a water bottle designed to clip onto his belt. "Stay hydrated, can't have you conking out from heat exhaustion in the middle of the jungle." Ed nodded, as he shouldered his own pack. According to the captain, chances were good they'd have to stay overnight. "Okay boys, let's go find us a mythical city."

It wasn't so bad at first. The brush around the outpost was relatively sparse, and the going was easy. Before long however, the jungle pressed in and they had to fight for every step, even with Bennett out front hacking away at ferns and vines like a madman. Cool morning had given way to sweltering afternoon, and Ed swatted at the droning insects trying to make a meal of him, trudged slowly after Willins, and wished he'd let Al go after all.

A scant six miles stretched into an all day hike, and by the time the captain announced they'd arrived it was already quite late. Ed frowned as he pushed aside thick leaves and stepped over the raised roots of an old tree. He'd only have a few hours of good daylight left to explore the ruins.

Bennett and Willins were both perched on an old log for a breather, and Edward joined them, dropping the heavy pack to the ground with a sigh and taking a few grateful gulps of too-warm water. He was hot, tired, and his clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin. These things conspired to make him damned miserable, and Edward looked around, hoping a glimpse of the ruins might lift his spirits a bit. All he saw was more jungle, the only break in the unending wall of green was a brightly plumaged bird resting on a branch not far away, head tucked beneath a brilliant orange and yellow wing. "How much farther?"

"We're here," the captain said, his usual bubbly enthusiasm only slightly dampened by the miserable conditions. He leaned forward, pointing. "The jungle's moved back in after all this time, but see there? You can see a bit of wall beneath the vines."

There, camouflaged so well beneath old growth as to be nearly invisible was a length of crumbling old wall. Edward sat up straight, lethargy giving way to excitement. He jumped to his feet and shouldered his pack, bouncing on his toes excitedly. "What are we waiting for, then? Let's go!"

Willins groaned, getting to his feet slowly and with great reluctance. "Already?" he whined.

Bennett clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll have plenty of time to sit on your rump while Ed works, you big baby. Now move it!"

Ed cast the captain a grin and then moved off towards the ruins, not bothering to wait for the other men. All the energy the jungle had leeched out of him returned twofold, and he moved quickly and easily over the uncertain terrain. He moved around the wall that blocked the rest of the ruin from view, and stopped, surprised. When Bennett had said this was the largest in the area, Edward had expected some sort of crumbling city. While the ruins were certainly crumbling, it was definitely no city. One large building was situated in the center of three smaller ones, and that was all. Just four buildings. Ed tried not to be disappointed; after all, what need would they have had of a city above ground when they had one beneath it? It made sense really, and he made his way towards the central building, stepping carefully over piles of old brick and the roots that had ripped them from the ground.

The central building was in pretty sorry shape. The dome-shaped roof had partially caved in, allowing the jungle inside; the green top of a tree just visible above the rim. The architecture was impressive where it was still intact, intricate carvings adorning the stone archway that led inside. The door itself had rotted away long ago. Ed stopped in the doorway, brushing away the lichen that had gathered in the creases of the stone frame. The decorative carvings were really something else, smooth and still distinct after all these years. Ed studied the design while he waited for the others to catch up, tracing the swirling, looping lines with a finger and brushing away more dirt and lichen as he did. The design was quite large, and he realized with a nasty shock, not an abstract one.

It was an eye.

Stylized, but disturbingly familiar, and Edward snatched his hand away and took an involuntary step back. He had seen that eye before, adorning a very different doorway, and unease settled between his shoulder blades like an itch he couldn't scratch. It could be a coincidence, but Ed's good sense told him that a ruin bearing the eye of the Gate was not a thing to take lightly. He had always believed the legend of Antaj had grown with time and telling, and that even if it existed, it could not really be the trove of power the stories claimed. However, if these people had known of the Gate, had perhaps worshipped it enough to adorn their buildings with its image, then there was no telling what secrets the city held in her depths. The possibilities were both exhilarating and terrifying.

He heard Willins and Bennett approaching from behind, and he said, "I think it's real." Ed didn't look at them, couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the carving.

The footsteps stopped, and the captain spoke up. "What makes you say that?"

"That," Ed said, pointing at the carving and wrenching his gaze away. "Is something few alchemists would recognize, and with good reason. The people who built this were powerful, no doubt." And probably damned dangerous to boot, but Edward kept that theory to himself.

The captain hummed thoughtfully and stepped in front of Ed, peering at the eye. Edward had to resist the urge to pull him back; the carving itself likely had no power. "There's another carving like this inside," the man said after a minute. "Bigger though, if I recall. Been a while since I was last through here."

Vaguely uneasy, Edward stepped through the large doorway; muscles strung taut and body vibrating, though from the thrill of discovery or imagined threat, he wasn't sure. Ed took a few steps across the strangely spongy ground and stopped short, Willins plowing into his back and knocking them both forward. Ed barely noticed, staring ahead in numb shock, stomach twisting strangely around his spine.

Looming above them and buried beneath several lifetimes of vines and old growth, was the Gate.


	6. Announcement

**No, this is not a new chapter; it's an announcement. Sorry if I got anyone's hopes up.**

**Originally posted at my LJ.  
**

So, I've been sitting on Dichotomy for the last few weeks, feeling nothing but guilt about not working on it but being unable to muster the enthusiasm to do so.

Which got me thinking about my writing, fanfic, and fandom in general.

Anyone who has been following me for any length of time has probably noticed by now that I have big dreams for writing. I want to write books. I want to see those books in print someday. That same person might also have noticed that I never seem to actually get anywhere with this original fiction I keep talking about.

They'd be absolutely right about that. I don't.

I have to my name an endless supply of trite, done-to-death ideas (and a few gems), enough false starts and third chapter flops to be thoroughly embarrassing, and exactly one(1) complete rough draft that is so much the definition of the word that if it ever makes it through the far side of revisions it will have maybe five words in common with the original. And the only reason I have that much is because of NaNoWriMo, which seems to be the only time of year I manage to set everything else aside and just _write_. A pretty sorry collection for someone who has wanted to 'be a writer' since she was fifteen. That's twelve years, and I have very little to show for the time.

Now, there's a lot of reasons for that, not the least of which is my ability to procrastinate like a champ. One of the larger culprits though, is fanfic.

Don't get me wrong. I _love_ fanfic. That's actually, uh, part of the problem. I've been writing fanfic since before I knew what fanfic _was_. (Heralds of Valdemar stuff, if anyone's wondering. And no self-inserts for me! It was slash from the word go. *grin*) Fanfic is comfortable, and safe, and _worlds_ easier than original stuff. With fanfic the world is ready-made and populated by amazing characters that everyone already loves. The hard part is done for you. After that, it's like instant fiction! Just add plot. ;)

That's not true for everyone, of course. Some folks find it to be the exact opposite, that working within the constraints of a pre-existing universe is actually harder than building everything from scratch. And man, do I _envy_ them!

Fanfic is kind of like the training wheels I'm too afraid to take off. I know, looking at myself from a (mostly) objective perspective, that I have potential. I've got a bit of talent, and a bit of skill, and if I'm willing to do the hard, heavy lifting of writing book after book, I could be _good_. Good enough to sell, good enough to make a modest living doing something I love.

I've learned a lot from writing fanfic. There is absolutely no denying that I've grown as a writer because of it. If I wouldn't be COMPLETELY MORTIFIED, I'd link my old FFN account just to prove the point. But even ten years isn't enough to make me want to admit to writing that crap. XD

What it boils down to, is that it's time for me to stop. In a perfect world, I'd be able to write original stuff and fanfic at the same time, no sweat. As much as I would love to be this organized, super-productive person who can juggle both- I'm just not. I'm messy and disorganized and prone to doing things at the absolute last second. I vacillate between periods of intense focus and times where I have the attention span of a gnat. Those periods of focus are like gold, and if I keep spending them on fanfic, I'll never get anywhere.

I really, really wanted to hold off on this until I'd finished my WIPs, because I have this sense of obligation to all the amazing readers and the people I've met through my fic. Starting a chaptered fic is something like a promise, and one I'm loath to break.

Unfortunately, my active interest in FMA has waned. I don't participate in comms, I don't read fic anymore. That ship has sailed, and it's only that sense of obligation that's been keeping me working. I really, _really_ wanted to finish those fics, because I feel like I owe it to you guys.

There's two problems with that, though. The first is that I've lost interest. Every word is like pulling teeth, and I can almost guarantee that without enthusiasm, the quality will tank. Second, there's this feeling that I MUST finish before I'm allowed to work on anything else. So when I'm stalled on those fics, I'm stalled on _everything_, especially my original stuff.

So I'm calling it quits. Best I Ever Had and Dichotomy are on indefinite hiatus. They _may_ be completed sometime in the future if I get a second wind, but there are no guarantees, and it honestly isn't likely. I'd like to thank everyone who read and enjoyed my work, and offer my heartfelt apologies for not making it to the finish line. Especially the folks who offered (and in one case, started) to beta my most recent push to beat Dichotomy into submission. You're all made of sixteen kinds of awesome, and I'm sorry I wasted your time.

As for fic in general: You'll probably see one-shots crop up from time to time if the mood strikes. Nothing will be posted before it's complete, and that includes any longer endeavors I might tackle in the future, although at this point longfic is pretty unlikely.

Anyone interested in following my renewed attack on original fiction should friend my writing journal (fiction-foxtrot at livejournal) linked from my profile. It hasn't been updated in a while, but that's going to change here shortly.

It's been fun guys, and I've met some amazing people through my fic that I would never have had the pleasure to know, otherwise. I wish I could have finished these for you, but it is high time I stepped up and took responsibility for what I want, and for now at least, that means putting fanfic away to make space for what I really want to pursue.


End file.
